Terri Nixon - Evie’s Choice

As the words left her lips to hang unretractably between us, Lizzy looked at me as though she wished the car would burst into flames around her. My own stunned surprise faded into realisation that she was absolutely right, and I almost laughed outright but managed to contain it; I must appear to possess some dignity at least. So I turned away instead, nearly putting my teeth through my lip in my effort to appear stern. I daren’t look at Uncle Jack, who’d clearly had the same thoughts, and was staring straight ahead as if he had never been up our drive before, and was trying to see right up to the end of it.

Lizzy slipped from the car to begin her walk, and I saw her miserably embarrassed gaze following the car, as it roared up to the house with far more haste than was necessary. Neither of us suspected for one moment that we had just met the dearest friend each of us would ever know.

Chapter Three

The summer limped on. It seemed I had no time to myself, no opportunity to be looking out of the window for sight of Frank Markham’s van, and certainly none to be walking around Breckenhall in the hopes of seeing Will. There was a faint disappointment that he wasn’t seeking me out either, but I admitted I was being unreasonable; how could he possibly? Nevertheless, I began to wonder if I’d imagined the connection and growing warmth between us, and the sense of anticipation that had been coiling in my stomach since my return home was replaced by niggling doubt, and even faint embarrassment.

August was creeping towards its end, and my childhood with it. I would be eighteen on the twenty-third, and after that my life would be even less my own than it was now; strange how I had always envied the grown-ups their freedom, never suspecting that they were as much fettered by expectation as Lawrence and me. I found my interest in the Suffrage movement increasing; the sense of change just around the corner found an anchor in some frustrated corner of my mind, and began to pull…more than once Uncle Jack and I talked about it – he had reservations, not about the principle, but about the way the cause was gathering momentum; too fast and potentially dangerous. But to me it sounded not only exciting but inevitable and necessary, and I began to read as much literature as I could on the subject..

A few days before my birthday, thoughts of politics, and even of Will, had been swamped in importance by Mother’s insistence that I behave according to my new status and take a personal maid. Everyone seemed certain the kitchen maid, Ruth, would be chosen. I didn’t want a maid, could think of few worse things than having a little shadow, of any shape or size, but that it was likely to be the awful Ruth Wilkins was too much, and I said so.

‘I am not asking you for your views,’ Mother said mildly. ‘I am simply telling you what is expected of you. Besides, you will find a maid utterly invaluable, and, since we will be entertaining more now, Peters will not be at your disposal any longer.’

‘But does it have to be Ruth? She’s…well, she’s not at all the kind of person I can turn to if I need anything.’

Her voice became firmer. ‘Your maid is not your friend, Evangeline, and in any case, you know nothing about Ruth. She is an exceptionally good worker, according to Mrs Cavendish, and keen to better herself. I think she should do quite nicely.’

I sighed. Mother didn’t know I spent more time talking to the staff than I did my own family, so I was not supposed to know anything about the girl. But I did, of course, and I didn’t like any of it. She might well be skilled, and on the surface appear a dedicated worker, but in reality I knew her to be lazy, rude and selfish, with one ambition only: to move “upstairs”. I had never trusted her, and if I couldn’t trust my maid then surely it was better not to have one. But Mother waved my argument away, and I was on the verge of resorting to begging, and even promising to behave more like a young lady, when Uncle Jack spoke up from where he sat in the corner.

‘Lily, perhaps Evie might be permitted to make her own choice from the staff? And then whoever she chooses might be allowed to either accept or decline.’

I turned in indignation, to demand he explain why anyone would be likely to decline, and caught the ghost of his grin. ‘That’s a wonderful idea,’ I said instead, refusing to rise to his teasing. ‘What do you think, Mother?’

Mother sighed and glanced at Uncle Jack, who nodded encouragement. ‘Oh, very well. Although Ruth will be disappointed; she has long been the certain choice.’

‘Not mine!’ Seeing her expression I realised I was in danger of upsetting everything, and made myself stop there.

‘You have until Friday morning,’ Mother said. ‘Please, darling, do choose wisely.’

‘But my birthday is Friday, I’ll need someone to –’

‘Whoever you choose will still be needed up until Saturday morning at least,’ Mother said. ‘There are lots of preparations to make for the party on Saturday night. But don’t worry, Alice will see to you on Friday. Now do go for a walk while you think about it, your pacing up and down here is giving me quite a headache.’

‘I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll do that.’

‘If you see Lawrence while you’re out, tell him he’s late for his lessons yet again. Mr Stoper is in danger of losing his patience.’

‘I will. And I’ll come and tell you as soon as I’ve chosen.’

I wandered down the drive and out onto the Breckenhall road, my mind ranging over the staff as I went. The second housemaid, Emma Bird, was sweet, but she had a dreadfully intense and obvious crush on Uncle Jack, and since they would see each other often it might be embarrassing for him. I smiled to myself; that might be reason enough to choose her! But it wouldn’t be fair on poor Emma to use her for such sport.

Mary Deegan, the other housemaid, was lovely. She was kind and hard-working, rather serious much of the time, but I was sure she would soon unbend once we got to know each other. Yes, Mary was a good choice. Anyone would be, except Ruth! Emma said she hadn’t improved at all and had taken an instant dislike to the new scullery maid.

Lizzy! I stopped in the road wondering why I hadn’t thought of her straight away. She might be new, but Mother had said I might have my choice, she hadn’t said it must be someone who had worked here a long time. I thought back to my first sight of the girl as she huddled in the back of Uncle Jack’s car, hatless, with dark hair that had started out merely cloudy, and had ended up a terrific mess from the wind that whipped it into tangles. She had been looking at me then as if she thought I might dismiss her on the spot if she opened her mouth, and yet she had spoken up, with blunt honesty. Just Lizzy. Yes, perfect!

A rumbling in the road behind me made me look back. It was Markham’s van, crawling along no faster than I was walking, but the butcher himself was not driving it – instead Will Davies sat behind the wheel, squinting through the glass and concentrating on the road so hard he had not recognised me. I stopped walking and waited until he drew alongside, then I waved, and his expression was so comically startled that I couldn’t help laughing. But I didn’t laugh for long.

The van lurched to the right, tugged that way by Will’s determination to keep control of the vehicle despite lifting his left hand to wave back to me, and, as he realised what he had done, he grabbed the wheel again and sent the van careering across the road. It cut in front of me, and as I cried out in shock at the near miss, the van toppled into the ditch, precariously balanced on two wheels, and its driver spilled over the half-door to land sprawled beside it.

‘Will!’

He raised his head and looked at me, dazed, and I saw he was moments away from being crushed. He saw it too, and scrambled to his feet, and I grabbed his hand and pulled him away a bare second before the van crashed onto its side. We stood there, both of us staring at the van, and then at each other. Will opened his mouth to say something, but instead turned back to the van that had chuntered into silence. We were both breathing hard and I realised, at the same moment Will did, that we were still holding hands. He didn’t let go.